


BACON IN THE AIR?!

by rage_incarnate_the_hermit



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean's Freckles, F/M, Fluff, Freckles, I Don't Even Know, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Multi, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, Romance, Someone help, dean winchester x reader - Freeform, fluffy fluff, i dont know how tags work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 14:00:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3384266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rage_incarnate_the_hermit/pseuds/rage_incarnate_the_hermit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>uh, there's some general fluff fluff going down in the bunker when you wander into the kitchen and find Dean cooking you... BACON?!</p><p>This is written in the second person.</p>
            </blockquote>





	BACON IN THE AIR?!

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave *constructive* criticism. I'm new here. I have no idea how anything works. I wrote this work for my best friend; we write fanfiction together. I inserted myself as the reader's sister because she ships me with Sam. We're kind of odd. Anyway, this is my first time writing with second person and I'm a tad proud of the fact that I wrote anything at all. I've always meant to write fanfiction. Let me know how it is. 
> 
> p.s. I also don't know if I will make more chapters of this. That depends on the feedback I receive so I'm going to keep that open for now.
> 
> ***EDIT***
> 
> omg thank you so much for the kudos, you have no idea how much it means to me.

You yawned, something that seemed to be pretty characteristic of you tonight. You were tucked away in the corner of the Bunker library, not giving a flying fuck that there were a _table and chairs_ in the middle of the room. That didn’t matter at all, you had your favorite pillows that smelled nice-- **cough** , you stole one of them from Dean’s room-- and were cuddled up under a blanket reading an ancient tome. You weren’t exactly sure what you were reading anymore. Something something dragons? You were tired and pretty sure you were dying of hunger. Yeah, that’s it, totally the reason why you can’t focus. Not the sleep issue. You stretched your arms above your head and out in front of you. That bought a jab of pain to your knee that reminded you of the day you were bit in the kneecap by a bitch-faced vampire. That was the day you met the Winchester brothers. Not long after they burst through the doors and shot the bejeezus out of that vampire, your sister literally rolled through a window and nearly cut off their testicles. You will never forget how pissed off she looked that day. I guess nothing makes her more feral than protecting family. But now you’re getting off track.

Back to the hunger issue. Yes, _the thing that deals with food. **Foooood.**_

You smelled bacon. And bacon meant Dean. And Dean meant delicious meat--er, no. You don’t think it went in that order. _But food._

You followed the scent of delicious piggy butt to the kitchen where you found Dean cooking. On the way there, you ran into Sam carrying your sister reverse piggyback style. Her head was nestled in the crook of his neck, brown hair literally everywhere, much like yours was. One of her hands dangled over his shoulders, and you could see she was still holding a paperback. What an idiot.

“Did she fall asleep?” you murmured to Sam, looking up to his face. He was way too god damn tall, you’re glad your sister had to deal with that and not you.

He laughed softly, “Yes, she did. Taking her back to her room and gonna watch a movie because I’m thinking sleeping is a good idea, too. You should get some rest soon, too--” he nodded towards the tome tucked into your arms, “--probably haven’t slept?”

You nodded and smiled, letting Sam carry on his business of whisking your sister away to sleep. When your feet padded onto the linoleum floor, Dean peered at you over his shoulder to look at you. “Back from the world of books, are we?”

“Mmmngh,” you groaned. You were no longer capable of coherent English. You speak hungry now.

Dean clearly understood, though, “I see. Do you like bacon?” You could’ve hit him with the book, “MNNNNGH!” This interaction brought back memories of how your dad used to make fun of you in the morning when you weren’t capable of even primitive speak.

“Coming right up,” Dean said.

Once the bacon was put in front of you, you nearly ate the entire pan. Dean watched you with a knowing smile on your face. Even now, when you literally looked like an animal, he still thought you were damn gorgeous. You, with your dark red hair curled and gigantic, always with your nose in a book or trying to murder your sister in video games, would forever be beautiful to Dean.

“So,” Dean started, “since it seems to be wind-down hour and we’re out of the woods for now with the things that go bump in the night, what do you want to do?”

You yawned for the umpteenth time tonight, “I’m pretty beat, so I don’t know. You’d have to find something that would keep me up for a while if you want to spend time with me tonight.”

Dean was quiet for a couple of beats, but that bastard had a tongue made of silver, “You could always attempt to count the number of freckles on my face.”

Your eyes got wide and you slowly stared up at him. He stared back. And now you were blushing. _Fuck._ He _does_ have a lot of freckles. You broke into a grin, “You’re on.”

He grinned wide and moved fast around the table, sliding his arms under the crook of your knees and picking you up, bridal style. He laughed as you gave a high-pitched squeak. He maneuvered you carefully around the door frame of his room and set you down gently on his bed, giving you a quick peck on the lips. You could’ve sworn you couldn’t blush any more than you already were. He settled down next to you, wrapping his arms around your middle and snuggling his face on your shoulder.

“Ready when you are, Red,” he used your casual nickname.

You went to counting the beautiful imperfectly perfect brown spots dotting his face and watched his green eyes laze into sleep. At one point, you fell asleep, too. When you woke up, you went right back to counting. That night, you found that his freckles were a tad shy of being just as numberless as the stars. And after that, you fell asleep in that boy’s strong arms and breathed in the pine bath soap he used. Nothing could top this bliss.


End file.
